authorsnotes: so I totally vowed to update all fics before 2021 end, sigh. I'm now giving myself till end of jan, just a lil extension!
I do hope you enjoy, lemme know your thoughts!
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songrecs: roses - emie nathan
It takes her 20 minutes to steady her breathing enough, splash her face and get dressed in a thick jumper, jeans and Harry's old quidditch jersey before she goes back downstairs.
Her hands shake a touch as she secures her bag, packing up bits in case they can't come back here, she's learnt that lesson from Grimmauld place, and so makes sure to pack some tins of food, two full bottles of water and a few packets as well.
Only when she has that done, hair brushed and frizzy but off her face, wand in hand, does she turn to Tom, waiting by the door, a bored, smug expression on his face that she wants to punch off.
He's getting what he wants, to go to Hogwarts, and she knows that is what they need to do, they need answers only the books in the castle have, the logic is unquestionable. It's her feelings that are getting in the way.
What will she see? Her fallen friends? Survivors picking their way through the dead? And which side won? Will she have to creep past Death Eaters or ignore living friends and family whilst sneaking past with the enemy? Will she see Harry? Will they have recovered his body? What about Ron, Ginny, Luna and so many more? Alive? Dead?
What will she find when they return?
Well she's about to find out.
"Ready?" Riddle asked, but he didn't sound remotely encouraging, was just smirking, wand held aloft. She offered him a glare and then a nod.
She didn't trust him, not one bit, but she did trust his self-interest, that he knew she could help him with answers, that they did need to stick together, she trusted him in that sense not to harm her … well, until she stopped being useful.
She'd just have to keep being useful then or kill him before then. The latter seemed much more preferable.
A tap, and she felt something cold down her back, the chill that indicated the spell had worked. She felt both annoyed and relieved that it was a near perfect Disillusionment charm, she could barely be seen, she knew her effort would have fallen much short.
Of course, he's impressive, he's Voldemort, she shouldn't be feeling jealous or annoyed, she doesn't want to be like him, regardless of his power.
Still, she can't help it, she's always annoyed when someone outperforms her, is better than her, she's mature enough to admit it's one of her biggest flaws.
"Oh, don't worry" Riddle said before he too disappeared, "I'm sure your effort would have been commendable"
"Stop reading my mind" She said, knowing that was what he was doing. She vowed then to start practicing Occlumency. Having someone rattling around her mind was horrible. Her mind was her own, her best weapon, she didn't want it invaded.
"As I said before you practically scream your thoughts, it is not my fault they are too easy to hear" She could tell he was rolling his eyes, and then with a clearing of his throat, "Let's go then"
"First" Hermione said, resecuring the charm from earlier, that Tom had cast, but this time doing it herself, tethering them together, as he had, "So you can't run off"
"Please" Riddle said with a chuckle that was far from pleasant laughter, far more menacing and evil-villain-like, "I can break this easily" She squirmed at that, no doubt he could, "I'll stay put because it makes sense, not because you can make me"
It was unnecessary for him to say that, in fact, it probably would have been better had he kept said ability from her, to break the spell, but no, he did have a downfall, one so many leaders and evil villains had in common.
Arrogance.
It was something she could use, and so she let it go unchallenged, and instead as she felt his hand take hers, she just curled her fingers, and followed as with a yank they apparated.
When they arrived, silent, hidden, no gasp left her lips, no horrified scream.
There were no mangled bodies, no rivers of blood, no broken and battered creatures or friends.
There was nothing.
They had landed just shy of the courtyard, but she could see it from the arch they'd apparated under, and it was … empty. Completely empty. In fact, it even looked like it had been scrubbed clean.
She could see lights in the Great Hall, hear chatter, so there must have been some survivors, a winner, a victor.
'History is written by the victors'
She wasn't sure why that quote came to her, or why it mattered, but it was straight in her head as she looked over Hogwarts, still damaged, stone still cracked, some buildings around still more piles of rubble, but it was intact, it was no longer a battlefield.
"And to the victors the spoils" Riddle spoke then, and she jumped, his voice coming out of nowhere, thanks to their hidden state. She glared, but knew he couldn't see it, it still felt good to do.
Yes, Occlumency training would need to be a priority. How was she to plan and scheme if he could hear every thought of hers?
"Wait" She paused then, holding up a hand, "I thought Legillimency required eye contact?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She hadn't studied the subject herself but had certainly read the theory.
"It does" Riddle offered, and then nothing more, though he laughed as she huffed, and continued. "But your thoughts are loud, I can pick out a few intense ones" She nodded, feeling a touch better that he couldn't hear everything.
Still, Occlumency training remained a priority for her, it had to be when living with a Legilimence, eye contact or not.
She didn't dwell on the fact that if Riddle couldn't pluck the thoughts from her head he'd do something much more unsavoury.
Hermione turned back to the battlefield, it felt like just yesterday they'd been here…
A giant swinging a great club, roaring, as Hagrid charged forward with Gwarp.
Acromantula, too many, so big, chittering and waving their legs, the size of small cars.
Flashes of red, of green, purple that had made her flinch.
A confringo exploding half the wall, people not fast enough to apparate out crushed.
A scream, too many screams, sobbing, a loud cry.
Bodies, so many bodies, those with masks and those without.
All gone.
It had only been a day, closer to two now, but still, no time at all and almost all traces of the battle had been erased.
She guessed the real question, was by who?
She took a step towards the Great Hall before she felt herself pulled back, Riddle's hand on her arm. She whirled around to push him off, but felt his grip tighten.
"We can cut up the East Stairs" He said, "Quicker and easier"
"But…" She turned back to the Great Hall. It looked warm, and welcoming. Candles floated, she could hear voices, could it be her friends?
"The bad guys eat dinner and chat too" He drawled, and Hermione felt her heart sink, not just that he was right, but that she could broker no argument.
"I have to know" She said, not a real argument, not logical, but the truth.
"And you will" Riddle said, taking a step forward, but to the East Stairs, "After we get what we came for"
If he held out a hand, she didn't see it, but she nodded, and took a step forward too. Did he look back? She didn't know, she just heard his footsteps, just barely there, and followed them to the East Stairs.
They reached the Room of Requirement in minutes.
Three paces past it, and the great door appeared, ornate as always, apparently the Fiendfyre hadn't destroyed it … or at least the outside.
A little gasp left her lips as she suddenly reappeared and Riddle in front of her. "Need to keep an eye on one another" He said with that awful smirk, and she was thankful he could see her glare this time, as she followed him inside.
"Not like anyone will be able to follow us in here" He said, as he opened the door, "Not how the room works"
"I know how the room works" She protested.
They both fell silent as they stepped inside.
The inside thankfully was still intact, and back to the dormitory style room, with hammocks and books, as it had been when they'd first arrived for the battle.
For a second she closed her eyes, as she remembered.
A cheer as she, Harry and Ron stepped through the portrait, all of their friends surrounding them, looking a touch worse for wear, but wearing smiles all the same.
She'd felt so warm, after being cold for so long on the run, had felt like she'd come home.
'Hogwarts is my home'
Harry had said that once, and she'd understood it, but only truly appreciated it when they'd come back.
'Are we fighting?' That had been Neville, the call to arms, and soon the battle had followed.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she didn't wipe them, not wanting to give herself away. Riddle already heard her thoughts, she didn't need him seeing into her soul, seeing her vulnerabilities.
Not now, not ever, but especially not here.
"Looks a touch different to what I remember" Riddle spoke up then, jolting her back to her thoughts. She turned to him and then back to the room, ready to make a cutting remark.
But he was right.
The room still stood, still adapted to what she'd asked, 'Show me where the books are', but the walls were greyed, smoke damaged, she realised. It was being leeched out, the natural damage of the room undoing the damage, but apparently it was taking its time.
"Well, we killed a piece of your soul here" She spat out, needing to say something, anything, lash out, just to stop the tears.
She glanced at the portrait, to where they'd stood, the three of them, Harry smiling, so happy to be back home, Ron grinning from ear to ear as family and friends embraced him. She remembered grinning herself, feeling warm, home.
"It might have poisoned the room with it" She finished, spitting it out, needing to lash out, she often did when she was hurt. A terrible flaw usually, but now it made her feel a touch better. She hardly felt guilty about trying to hurt evil incarnate.
"Here" She said as she spied the books, stacked on one of the shelves where she'd left them. She could tell it was them thanks to the spines being turned away.
There had always been a real possibility she wouldn't return for them and had hoped no one would be able to find them again. They didn't need anymore Dark Lords rising to power.
One was most than enough.
Though she supposed technically there were two now, even if one was dead. She flicked her gaze to Riddle then, as he came to stand next to her, taking one of the volumes, opening the first page, as soon as he grinned, she felt a shiver, it seemed he liked what he'd found.
"Remember you were insane" She said, and she saw him slightly wilt at that, good, hopefully he wouldn't be getting any ideas.
It would be much trickier to kill him if had horcruxes again. That had been enough to deal with the first time.
"Let's go" She said, taking the volumes, including the one in his hand, putting them in her bag. They had what they'd come for.
Or at least, what they said they'd come for.
"We shouldn't stop" Riddle said as she hurried for the door, waiting for him. He rolled his eyes as he tapped her head, the cold trickle indicating she'd been Disillusioned again, and he soon followed, "It's sentimental and unnecessary" How cold he sounded.
"Look I know you've never cared about anyone but yourself" She said matter-of-factly, "But I need to know"
"Fine" He said, sounded exasperated, "But don't cry if you don't like what you find"
"God forbid" She mumbled then, before stepping outside into the corridor.
Again, she noted the interior was clean, sparse with lots missing, the suits of armour for example, but it was clear someone had cleaned up.
She wasn't sure why, but that gave her a feeling of hope. Surely the Death Eaters wouldn't have scrubbed?
They descended down the stairs in silence, what was there to say? Yes, it was sentimental, but it was more than that. How could she sit around not knowing? To her it was entirely necessary to know what had happened, to know who had won.
''History is written by the victors'
'To the victors, the spoils'
She needed to know who the victors were.
It had been killing her these past few days, to not know, to be so worried. She kept thinking of the last time she had seen everyone.
Ron, sailing backwards thanks to her spell, knowing, knowing he wouldn't let her go to Harry, to die with him, as she'd intended. A kiss to his cheek, and then gone, shocked, horrified.
Luna. A black eye, a cut lip, charging up the stairs after Hagrid, cradling what looked like an injured House Elf in her arms, always caring Luna.
Ginny, fresh tears on her cheeks, but duelling furious, angry, red hair flying.
So many more. Lavender, dead on the floor covered in blood, Seamus and Dean throwing homemade explosives into the crowd of Acromantula, George, sobbing as he threw curse after curse, Malfoy snivelling on the floor, only saying sorry, over and over.
Where were they now? Alive? Dead?
She needed to know.
They reached the courtyard again, and instead of turning away to apparate, Hermione stepped forward, forward and forward to the Great Hall, just to peer inside, to see who had won, her heart near bursting with hope, please, please, let it be our side, please let them have won.
'To the victors…'
What she found was not what she expected.
They were all supposed to be dead.
She remembered them. Thorfinn Rowle, eyes glassy, Rabastian Lestrange, a grin on his frozen face, Antonin Dolohov, as if he were asleep, Dennis Travers plain and face down, Narcissa Malfoy, beautiful even in death with Lucius next to her, a shell of who he had been, Bellatrix Lestrange, the mad look still on her expression even in death.
They had all been dead, dead, and gone, whatever Harry had done hadn't just killed Voldemort, but his most trusted lieutenants had fallen too, she remembered seeing them, remembered thinking that not just the death of their Leader would turn the tide, but theirs would too, their deaths would ensure a victory for the Light.
And yet, there they were.
She could see them all, Rowle sat laughing with Dolohov and Lestrange, all smiles, definitely not dead. She could see Travers sat with a few Death Eaters she didn't know, telling a story. She could see someone who looked like Crabbe and another who looked like Goyle, both grinning. And then it got worse.
At the Head Table, the seats reserved for Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, sat Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa at his side, both looking far healthier than she could remember, smiling from ear to ear. Nott sat further down from them, and then Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix, a little muted but still sat, smiling, talking, laughing.
All alive, all looking healthy and well. Certainly not dead, not defeated, but sat in Hogwarts, in the Great Hall, in her home, Harry's home.
To the victors, had come the spoils.
sooo thoughts?
damn that ending was hard to right ;-;
I do hope you enjoyed! this story is really kicking off now. it's not going to be easy, or nice for poor hermione, and not for tom either! that's all I'll say...
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speak soon
